A Child's Own Book of Verse, Book Three by Ada M. Skinner, Frances Gillespy Wickes, Maud Petersham,

By Ada M. Skinner, Frances Gillespy Wickes, Maud Petersham, Miska Petersham

3rd quantity of A kid's personal e-book of Verse, a three-volume set deliberate to be used through the 4 fundamental years. This strangely high quality selection of poetry used to be chosen with the kid's pursuits in brain. comprises sound rhymes and jingles to entice the ear, descriptive poems to create photographs within the imagination, lullabies and lyrics to hot the center, and story-telling poems to stir the mind's eye. Attractively illustrated by means of Maud and Miska Petersham. appropriate for a while 7 to ten.

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Example text

From my wings are shaken the dews that waken The sweet buds every one, When rocked to rest on their mother's breast, And she dances about the sun — I wield the flail of the lashing hail, And whiten the green plains under, And then again I dissolve it in rain, And laugh as I pass in thunder. —PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY Auld Daddy Darkness Auld Daddy Darkness creeps frae his hole, Black as a blackamoor, blin' as a mole: Stir the fire till it lowes, let the bairnie sit, Auld Daddy Darkness is no wantit yit.

Glad did I live, and gladly die, And I laid me down with a will. This be the verse you grave for me: Here he lies where he longed to be, Home is the sailor, home from the sea, And the hunter home from the hill. —ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON Psalm XXIV Lift up your heads, O ye gates; And be ye lift up, ye everlasting doors; And the King of glory shall come in. Who is this King of glory? The Lord strong and mighty, The Lord mighty in battle. Lift up your heads, O ye gates; Even lift them up, ye everlasting doors; And the King of glory shall come in.

Tis you must tend the flock this morn And scare the small birds from the corn Not a soul at home may stay. For the shepherds must go With lance and bow To hunt the wolf in the woods to-day. Leave the hearth and leave the house To the cricket and the mouse; Find grandma out a sunny seat With babe and lambkin at her feet Not a soul at home may stay For the shepherds must go With lance and bow To hunt the wolf in the woods to-day. —SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE The Old, Old Song When all the world is young, lad, And all the trees are green; And every goose a swan, lad, And every lass a queen;— Then hey for boot and horse, lad, And round the world away; Young blood must have its course, lad, And every dog his day.

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